Last week, I'm walking the paths of our property, staring at the ground to watch for snakes, when a young boy's story popped into my head. At first, I pushed the thoughts away, thinking I was getting too distracted from my snake watch. However, with each step, a story unfolded in my mind. I could see the young character as plain as day in my mind. I was familiar with his personality. He whispered his story in my ears while I walked. Heartbreaking, but he conquers it triumphantly in the end.
I didn't even come in and wipe the sweat from my forehead before I grabbed my notebook and pencil and wrote the storyline down. I mean, it came to me for a reason, right?
I'll file it away for future use. At this point, I cannot let my "creative procrastination" steer me from the novel I'm working on now.
Sometimes I marvel at the functions of a creative mind. They can be counter-productive, yet fascinating.